Entice
by Dissonencia
Summary: It was always a standard warning to never wallow where mermaids gather. But Kurosaki Ichigo, a navy official, did not heed the warning and suffered the consequences. One-shot.


_Disclaimer: _I don't own Bleach.

_Warning: _Very slight nudity.

_Chapter Word Count: 3,591_

**Entice**

**.**

**…o0o…o0o…o0o…**

Is he dying?

_Too slow. _

Or he just died.

_Much better._

But then…

Neither of the two felt right. If it's the former, there is absolutely no reason to drag his death at agonizing length. If it's the latter, then why is it that he can still _feel_ the freezing sea breeze and the wound on his chest still _hurt_?

He seemed to be trudging aimlessly along the blurred line between life and death.

_It's maddening. _

The water had calmed. The big tides are no more. The horrible _inhumane_ screeches and terror filled screams no longer resonate. It was quiet and unbelievably serene _like_ nothing horrible happened. The wreckage left nothing but a vast, miserable, and silent water _graveyard_.

It was hunting, eerily quiet.

All that was left is the _popping_ sound of water clashing in the sides of his floating wood. Somehow, hearing it was enough to _confirm_ that he's not dead.

His bloodied eyes snapped open and met the deep blackness of the night with the moon as the only source of light. He grunted and felt his whole body sting; every single fresh wound on his body immersed in salt water ached. He's freezing, shaky and his lips were chapped, he moved his mouth and felt a sharp, fleeting pain as his lower lip bled. He mentally cursed and tried to move his limbs, _great_, they are _moving_, still responding to his command.

_Damn_, he really is alive.

He lifted his head a bit, strained his back muscles and tried to look around him, but he saw nothing; nothing but the vast dark ocean. Tinge of small hope, but was profoundly disappointed when he saw how Nature started cleaning its crime. He strained harder, squinted harder, maybe, _just maybe_, there really is someone alive. Maybe he's just missing it out with the amount of depressing cloud both figuratively and literally.

But the longer he stayed in that gauche position the more the kinked muscles in his neck and back hurt. He sat up with his elbows to try to not put too much pressure on his neck and once again, looked around him but this time, he had a better vision.

All the signs of a lethal shipwreck started disappearing one by one. The once proud and big ship filled with naval espionage resources bearing the Her Majesty's flag, _all_ _gone_. Destroyed by an _attack_ of something _dangerous_ and _mythical_. The ship sunk, only bits of wood stayed drifting. All things it carried buried in the sea, lost forever.

As for the passengers –his crew, they had a kind of fate _worse_ than the ship itself. A cheerless smirk appeared in his face, the ship might be even considered _lucky _compared to what happened to them. _Unlike its passengers, the ship wasn't tore open and swallowed_. True, bits of it were destroyed but the large vessel could rest in peace, forever preserved in the bottom of the sea, pretty much _whole_. But the passengers -quite literally- were tore off their flesh, their humans bone sucked and their blood drank. It was truly an unspeakable fate and he found it extremely vicious. He watched as screams died halfway in their throats as the monsters bit their necks, ripped off their heads and feast on the fresh human flesh. And _still_ have that sickeningly enchanting smile plastered in their faces.

Seeing their faces flashed in his mind's eye, brought him not so very long ago memories, memories on how it happened.

It was minutes after midnight when a sudden, wild jolt woke him. He heard screaming and screeches, horrid, absolutely _nasty_ sound. His eyes snapped open in alarming comprehension, he jumped off his bed, snatched his sword and forgone thicker clothing. The cold water hit his face and soaked his body as he knocked the double doors leading to the deck.

Donned only in thin fabric and sword at hand, he raced to the dock where hell greeted him. Killer tempest and powerful waves, yes, _but no visible attacker_. No distant cannon trajectories, they were completely blinded. It was scary story leafed out straight from a story book. One second assessment was all that he needed. One look at the angry waves, storm, screeches and the overall chaos, Kurosaki sprung into action. He shouted orders amidst the chaotic deck, his crew looked at him and for the briefest of seconds, he saw a tinge of hope etched in their faces. This drove him to know more about what is going on, what's attacking him and what motive. _Pirates, perhaps_? It would explain their characteristic style of attacking under such weather condition but it won't explain the brief and outlying _nasty, screeching_ voice and more importantly:

_Where the hell are they hiding_?

Ichigo raced to the side of the deck and just as he reached rails, something shook the ship strong enough that he fell to the wood floor just in time to hear one of his crew shout something amidst the loud panic and heavy rain: _'the keel! Sumthin's crackin' it open_!' the keel! He thought in panic. Of course, the ship would _sink_ if something happened to the keel, _it's the very base_, and beneath its thick wood is the strong sea currents. Ichigo scrambled up to his feet and again, had a split second debate on where to fight them in the ship –further compromising them- or in the water, and that would be exceedingly difficult. But then he thought, _damn it_! Suppressing whoever's destroying the keel must be the priority so he raced to the side to try and jump to the water to prevent whoever's destroying the ship's base. He gave them silent orders to stay alive no matter what and preserve the ship so they could go home safely. He gave one surveying look to his crewmates as if promising them of something then jumped to the water.

He expected to see men trying to break apart the ship using metal mason but _nothing_.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

He saw a flash, a split second flash like something is speeding fast him. And it didn't help that the water was so damn dark there was really nothing to see. Underwater cannon trajectories? From where?

Nothing, there was really no visible attacker. _Nothing_.

And then he saw an unmistakable silhouette of a caudal fin speeding fast below him.

And just as when realization hit: just in time he saw what kind of _monster_ he was dealing with, something flashed in time just as a great wave toppled their ship.

He saw a barrage of metallic flashes, his crew being _picked_ upon, before he could fully form the words in his head, he lost consciousness.

The devastation left not a single soul alive, except him.

He, who was waiting to be devoured by the deep blackness of the sea.

Pathetic as it may be, he did not know exactly he survived.

No longer cared of what dangers lurked thousand miles below him. He lay motionless over the piece of chalet wood, afloat in the middle of nowhere, staring at the starless night, and thinking about the two hundred men that he had bought along in his voyage, _regretting_ it.

He was a complete failure.

He couldn't shake it off. The guilt and remorse crushed him from the inside. Now he held two hundreds souls in his conscience. What about their families? Life behind? Children?

He had failed to protect his loyal crew.

He forced himself to relax over the piece of wood, anxiety is over. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. This might be even over sooner than what he could hope for.

Not returning at all was better than returning alive _alone_.

The lore was largely known and it was always a standard warning to never wallow where _mermaids_ gather. It was his fatal fault that he did not heed the warning. It had happened an hour ago yet it is still very much…_unreal_.

He heard the stories. They say that mermaids were bad omen, fearsome beasts that desire human-flesh. Fiends that tear humans apart, gnashed their teeth, and savor the soft flesh –all the while, beautiful. Creatures both loved and hated. Some claimed to have seen the underwater graveyard where mermaids leave _human carcasses_ or parts they didn't like _after meal_. So unsightly. Mermaids lure men –their favorite choice of sustenance_ or food_- with their beauty, trapped them, drown them or kill them on the spot. A fate that he, a navy official, did not escape.

He's so sure there will be a mermaid upon him in an hour, the smell of his blood so strong, enough to tempt to just about at least one mermaid. _They weren't known for being so benevolent to leave foods untouched_.

Ichigo tried to avoid movements and ignore the creeping nausea. Lying over a floating wood made his head heavier, dizzy even. He had long discarded his layered clothing, now swathed only in a ripped, very thin, soaked shirt –almost transparent- he had to endure this freezing cold environment along with the bone-crushing guilt in his chest.

_Maybe_. If he got lucky, this piece of wood might be his final resting place and let the ocean claim his decaying body and **not** a hungry monster's stomach. _Just_ _maybe_.

The gently moving currents stirred his dulling senses.

_Death must be approaching_.

Then he saw _her_.

And he knew his wish of dying without monstrous interference has become _impossible_.

He rose up a little bit, elbows propped. He wanted to see the face of his killer or _devourer_. His eyes -automatically alert- followed the dark figure circling him. The feel of something moving near him turned the previously dull thump of his heart erratic yet he stayed unmoving in his current position.

She swam around him, soundlessly. The moon was full tonight and he caught sight of her tail; the color of rich, _dark violet_, smooth satin with faint _metallic_ glimmer and thin, lucent membrane that flows around her tail like irregular tendrils. His head turned to the side, following her soundless movements. Her tail is very long, striking, it is scaly burnished and seemed to reflect what little light the moon had beneath the water.

But her face remained elusive. Ichigo, despite of all things occurred hours ago, found himself curious about her. Many men acclaimed their beauty so alluring and the way their tails swim elegantly along the water currents as if one with it is enough to halt one's breathing. Very deceiving.

_Illusory_. Legends taught him to _never_ admire _anything_ about them for it's a lethal trap.

But admire them, one can't help.

Others say it was already a given in their dastardly damning existence. An instant spell casted at the very moment a man set eyes on them. Broken only when a man fall prey and at the verge of dying by their sharp teeth and talons or _never _broken at all. Oftentimes, a man can still stay enamored while parts of him are being _chewed_, literally. Ichigo tried to suppress sickening thoughts as he wait for her to surface.

He could feel her moving beneath his floating wood, her fingernails grating the wood beneath him, as if waiting a perfect time and position to strike or just simply gauging him, to sense if he's dead already or worth _eating._ His sword forever lost in the vast sea, no chance of protection.

He may have lost resolve and the hope of surviving but that does not mean he will go down without a fight, she wants his flesh, she will fight him for it. _At least_, he had something to bring with him when he cross the afterlife.

He found himself suddenly tensing, anticipating the sudden breakage of his wood plaque but none came and the dark figure continued to swim soundlessly beneath him.

Although he knew he there is little to no chance of him surviving given all the inevitably existing factors that surround him. _But still_, he found it not quite repulsive that a man-eating monster lurked _very_ near him. Or was it death's silent reassurance that he'll soon find peace with his deceased crewmembers.

The currents stopped and he saw her peered up at him from underneath the water surface. Slowly, very slowly, she started to surface; large eyes stared right at him. For the first time in his life and probably the last, he came face to face, eye to eye with a live, mythical sea creature that he so denied existed years back when he was a kid.

She looked like…an ordinary woman swimming at night. No, nothing is out of place in her visage. She was just like an ordinary woman.

For a moment, he thought she'll lunge at him and rip his head instantly, a stunt he had seen repeated several times. He had briefly seen his men snatched by these monsters, their heads torn right on the spot and watched in horror as he saw _them_ literally devour his crew members. And she's one of them.

He choked on his mouth and before anything else, he accidentally asked the stupidest question he could think of. Or probably the most practical.

"Uh…can you speak?" his own voice, throaty and hoarse. Unsure and anxious.

She blinked twice and didn't answer but leaned closer. The light wave she made lazily hit his floating wood shelter. She put her fingers on the edge of his coppice and stared up at him closely.

He found her eyes too probing and he was overwhelmed against it and he looked down.

Looking down, he saw_ nothing_. She absolutely wore nothing to cover what most women thought to be a private part. His eyes and manly impulse instantly drawn to her bare breast and slim waist. His body reacted traitorously, even in the brink of imminent death; he still had the gall to become _aroused_. Pearly white skin illuminated by the moonlight, deep indigo eyes, long black hair tied with a very loose braid that some strands went loose and framed her face. Her whole braid was kept on one side, exposing her modest, _perky_, feminine curves.

Just her pale skin, braid and tails, she was plain but raw, alive but fabled, cold and staccato.

His eyes openly traveled her bare body shamelessly and she seemed fine with it. Nudity is not an issue. He gulped. It was such a bizarre encounter.

She leaned closer and her eyes continued to probe his face intently, her cool breath fanning his face. She definitely smelt of something_ fresh_. Like refreshing see breeze only _sweeter_.

Weird.

"Wh-what…?" he whispered as something bubbled up in his chest, was it _excitement_? If so, what an incongruous feeling in a strange set up.

...or was it just their peculiar capability to stun victims into passive submission working in him?

Her face merely centimeters from his, almost nose to nose and for one wild moment, he thought she will kiss him.

But to his disappointment, she tilted her head and her soft cheeks landed on his angular and sharp ones. Her cold face prickled his face and sent Goosebumps all the way down to his spine.

He could feel her open-mouth breath on his cheek and then to his neck. _Was she sniffing him?_ His own breathing became ragged and his heart pounded loudly in his ears. The top of her head rested on his shoulder and he had a good view of her tail for observation –not that he'll last long enough to report. Initially, he thought they were just literally half fish and half human glued together, but the human skin around her hips continued with short silver luminous scale turning into an intense, dark violet shade until her very caudal fin.

…and judging by the way her caudal fin splashes in and out of water, she must be enjoying this.

Suddenly, he froze; he could feel her lips on his neck. Like butterfly wings gently tickling his skin.

Then he thought: what could possibly stop her from biting his neck off now that she's perfectly positioned to do so?

"Your sisters were here hours ago, they killed my crewmates…" he murmured against the side of her head, his voice extremely husky. Not sure if they hold some kind of camaraderie like humans do. And he doesn't know if she could understand him, he is yet to hear any sound from her. What would it be like? Something entirely different or like those mermaids he witnessed hours ago, beautiful appearance in stark contrast to their screeching, horrid voices befitting to their _monstrous_ ways.

Ever so lightly, he felt something _very_ sharp touch his neck. Like a cold knife on top of his skin, not pushing, not grazing just resting. But the very thought of the threatening sharp teeth resting on his neck made him embrace the fact that he will die tonight.

Despite the constriction in his throat, he said. "…_are you going to do the same_…?" knowing very well the answer.

She must have sensed his uneasiness and she slowly lifted her head and stared at him eye to eye, again. He found it quite…_amusing_ to see her _frowning_. A non-human sporting a humane expression. Does she understand _some_ human expression?

He looked down and she reached out and her long fingers traced his jaw line. "We are ugly, ugly humans, right?" he said, feeling her fingers soft and slippery against his cheek. Her eyes met his and she _frowned_ harder, like she's disagreeing with him. How he could understand what she's thinking this easy was alien to him.

What was it? What the _hell_ was it? What does she see in his face?

What the hell is this thing going behind her human-like eyeballs to her human-like brain? How does she see him? Food? He was confused.

She was curious.

And he thought she was weird.

Really, really weird.

_But then…_

Suddenly, something snapped and he can feel it.

His instinct going unstable in alarm. His logical mind arrived in the same conclusion. His insight tells him the same thing. His fight or flight -but mostly fight- response going berserk. The adrenaline was insane. The survival impulse was at its highest. His internal systems going terribly mad just to preserve itself. Every part of him screamed it: She was danger. She was devastation. She was death.

And he's going to die.

And yet…

…he could not find the strength or even the resolve to push her hand away. Now what happened to the 'not going down without a fight'?

Extreme internal conflict? Yes. But none of the individual turmoil made it physically manifest as he let her fingers caress his chest in vague curiosity with an unfathomable expression. Like nothing's happening, like he's safe, like he's not going to die.

Like he's actually _enjoying_ it.

And it's too _fucking_ conflicting.

Breathing became more ragged and beads of cool sweat started trailing his forehead as her finger lingered on his sternum, where his heart directly lies. Would she? Would she split it open and make him watch at the last second of his life while she tore his heart and smile at him one last time before losing his life?

But _no_, the mermaid just stared at him

He wanted to get inside her head, past those indigo eyes and see how he looks like to her.

Her face inches from his. He saw it coming but didn't bother to resist. Her dainty palms cupped his face and her eyes too _enticing_ to look away, a very gentle _faint_ smile on her pink lips as if to reassure him. He stayed rooted to the spot, unable to break their eye contact. Her hands were too soft to struggle, as light as a feather touch, _teasing_. He felt his body move towards her; her will or his will, he had no idea. She was moving slowly down back to the sea.

Surprisingly, he wasn't even resisting and her hold on his face wasn't pushing or dragging, rather, it was sensually inviting…

Somehow, he knew exactly what's going to happen to him down there but he didn't feel any fear. In fact, with the rate she was going, so very slow he might even consider it _agonizing_.

He tasted the metallic danger but he was too _drugged_ to comply with his instinct and… she was all too _engaging_. Death was really inevitable.

She was completely immersed in the water, her hands still on his slightly above water face. She kept nudging –no, _guiding_ him towards her, as _nudging_ would imply the slightest coercion and he was so sure there was none. His face hit the cold water, head fully immersed. He reached out his hands and attempted to touch her face. The ice cold water stung like miniature pointy, icy knives piercing every pore in his body, but he doesn't care. The dark abyss behind her vanished along with its horrors as his vision focused only on her. On her enthralling eyes that were as sensual as possible. Then on her full form that was visible underwater, she was even more striking. Her eyes closed then opened with more spark than what he saw above water. She guided him further down to the bottomless sea, her dark underwater world.

He relented.

And finally, the _last_ survivor of a lethal shipwreck and the commodore of the Her Majesty's naval ship disappeared from the face of the earth down to its unfathomable water chasm.

'_Maybe it's a cruel death, not very tidy at all but still…it is-'_

**...…o0O0o…...**

_The End_

**Author's Note**

It's an open ending, so **infer** what you may.

Also, it's longer than intended. Should be a **500-word** **story** and I have no idea how it went up to 3000 words.

Of details, seems that, let go, I **can't**.

**Sorry** about the OOC-ness and missed grammatical errors.

**Thank you** so much for reading.

…

…

…

**Love me or Hate me?**

**Dissonencia.**


End file.
